milk moustaches
by mousehole
Summary: His dense best friend doesn't know the effect she had on him. As far as she knows, milk moustaches are just harmless things. RxN, rated T for suggestive content.


**Author's Note: **hello :) I don't feel like updating the other stories so I decided to make a oneshot~ I don't know where I got the inspiration for this, except maybe my leaky water jug and how much I want a milk moustache hihihi -shot-

Anyways, please read and review! :) Suggestive things though, if you're sensitive D: Hope you enjoy!

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_**milk moustaches.**_

He was in love with his best friend.

Scratch that; more like _hopelessly_ in love with her.

It was just so hard to admit it to her, let alone get her to read his… signs. No, his best friend wasn't just innocent, she was _dense_, too, too dense. She made him feel irritated at times.

She also made him feel… stimulated, with her innocence.

It was one of those lazy summer days that best friends spend with each other in hopes of curing each other's boredom. Naminé, the all too innocent one, decided to drop herself off in that hopeless boy's house. She did not want to fall prey to boredom. Boredom is a waste of a good no-school day.

"Hi!" she piped when he opened the door. She let herself in and flopped down on the couch, ignoring his amused look. "Where are your parents?"

"Good morning," he greeted back. It was normal for Naminé to barge into his house, but not in the _morning_. "They won't be home until tonight," he shamelessly suggested.

Dense Naminé did not get it, to his (not surprising) disappointment. "Roxas, let's do something today!" For someone who usually woke up at lunchtime, she was cheery, he observed.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "And what should that be?" he asked her, dropping down beside her. He wished he didn't. It made him conscious and fidgety.

The girl looked at him with a small, charming smile (it never failed to take his breath away) and buried herself in his chest, giving him a hug.

This was what annoyed him: for her, it was a perfectly normal thing. And as for him…

"Roxas, why is your heart beating so fast?" Naminé looked up at the other blonde. "Do you have high blood pressure?"

"Ah, no, it's just…" he couldn't answer her. Instead, he reciprocated that hug. The familiar scent of vanilla filled his lungs, giving him that heady rush in his head. How he just wanted…

"…milk?"

He did not quite catch that.

"I'm sorry?"

"Rox, I want to drink milk," she said, unbraiding herself from his torso. "I like the one you have! I wish we could get that one too…"

He smiled. "You should just add sugar, you know that?" he chuckled, leading her to the kitchen. He couldn't help noticing the fact that she was holding his hand all the way. He hoped his hand didn't sweat buckets.

"Yeah, but I never get it right," she sighed, hoisting herself on top of the counter. Her blue eyes trailed his every move, from pulling out the carton of milk from the fridge to putting spoonfuls of sugar into the large glass.

It made him mindful of his every move. It didn't help that her leg was in the way. It distracted him, the way her white summer dress lightly draped her… no. He cannot think about her that way. What kind of best friend does _that_?

He knew the answer: the uncouth one who was impossibly infatuated with his own best friend in more than one way (in other words, himself).

"Here you go," he handed her the glass which she took from him almost immediately. He could have sworn he felt her fingers brush his knuckles. It made him almost mad.

And it was just ten in the morning.

"Nams, do you want to go to the living room?" he almost couldn't breathe.

She nodded, her flaxen hair playing with her neck. The girl held out her arm, waiting for him to take it and help her down the countertop. He obliged. Gladly, in fact.

Once they sat down on the couch again, she began gulping down the desired drink. He watched her sloppily slugging the milk, beads of white liquid dribbling down her chin, soaking the front of her dress. And everyone knows what happens to white fabric when it got soaked. He felt himself sweating. He could not tear his eyes away.

She was down halfway when she looked up. The boy thanked her inwardly that she was too dense to notice what he was doing the whole time.

For some reason, she had this brilliant idea. "Hey, Rox," she began excitedly. A wicked gleam flashed through her eyes. "Let's make milk moustaches!"

"Uh, what?" Roxas was taken aback. He immediately thought of those advertisements he detested. "Remember I told you how much I really dislike those?" No. Roxas does not make a fool out of himself. Not even in front of her.

"Oh come on," she whined. "It's gonna be fun!"

He really hated it when she whined.

But it was one thing he did not want to do.

"No," he said firmly.

"Aaw come on, why not?"

"You can put it on yourself," Roxas retorted.

"But I'm too white!" She wailed. "It won't be seen. Besides, what's there to do on a lame day like this?" she added.

He rolled his eyes, looking at her fondly. "I don't know, maybe we can –"

She was so fast.

She pinned him to the couch, his waist between her knees, almost straddling him. She was looking down at him, pretending to be the superior one.

His face felt like it was aflame.

"Nams," he tried to cajole her out of her act, but he just couldn't. She was so near him. He could just…

"Now you can't escape," she giggled triumphantly, sitting down on his lap. He had a too close view of her face, and a too transparent view of what was under her soaked top, and the shape it gave. "Oh hey, what's this… what's under that's so har–"

"Wh-what are you doing?" he did not want her to finish that question. How could she be so innocent? What did the school teach her about those things? Why was she so dense?

She dipped her pinky into the milk and started patting his philtrum, forming her moustache. He didn't even notice; he was busy staring at her face; yes, only her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with animation (though he wished it were because of something else), her lips curved in a smile. Her eyes were shining with glee and concentration, the artist she was. He was captivated by her, heart and soul.

The girl giggled. "Done!" She was satisfied with the swirly moustache she donned on her best friend. "You look silly," she grinned.

Except… why was he staring at her like that?

"I-is something wrong?" she asked him. She was feeling conscious, him staring at her this closely. The girl looked away in embarrassment. "Look, if I'm just…"

She made a move to elevate herself, but he pulled her back down. The milk in her hand splashed, running down her hand. She put away the milk on the coffee table and made a move to clean his hand, but he caught her. He pulled her hand to his lips and to her surprise he licked the milk off.

It was a weird sensation. It made her blush furiously. "R-Rox, what…?"

His eyes, she noticed, were darker. It made her panic inside. What was happening to him?

Gently, he stroked her cheek, making the girl prickle further. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't.

In fact… despite the slight fear in her, she was starting to enjoy it.

He put an arm around her tiny waist, pulling her closer and closer, their noses almost touching. "Naminé, I really like you," there, he said it. Roxas hoped she understood something as blatant as that confession. He was starting to feel out of control.

"I-I…" it dawned onto her what he was doing.

It also dawned onto her what _she_ was _feeling_.

At what magnitude.

"I love you too," she whispered, the words rolling out of her tongue. She didn't know how long it had been since she realized she had fallen head over heels for her own best friend. Of course, she thought it was quite weird, and he might even reject her, so she never said anything.

It didn't mean her feeling never grew.

"Do you really?" his voice was getting inaudible.

"Y-yeah," Naminé was trembling, eyelids fluttering shut. She was delighted at the fact that he reciprocated, yet quite scared that his reciprocation was at the same level of hers: desire.

"Good," Roxas sighed, closing the distance.

"Mm, before that," she gently eased herself closer into him like putting two puzzle pieces together. She wondered what would have happened if–

The thought vanished when she felt his hand sliding up under her garments. It made her shiver.

"I gotta…" she put her arms round his neck and licked his lips teasingly, the temptress she was to him. "Wipe off your moustache."

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**Author's Note: **Soo how was it? I'm trying a different writing... style? Rarely do I write about things like this, so... yeah. I'm not so sure where this goes to, Rated T or M? If I put it in M, it might be a disappointment, if you know what I mean. As for T... I'm not so sure, but I'll leave it here (I'd make a lemon but I'm not very... experienced in that). Please review!


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